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On top of that, she had always dealt with survivor’s guilt, but when she had started working, the feeling had morphed into a strange insecurity and feeling of being a fake. She was always rehearsing for the day when everyone found out she was a phony. She wasn’t brave at all. She just couldn’t burn. If she could, she’d already be dead. She never could’ve run into a burning building or cut someone out of a car on fire without that knowledge. Sure the equipment was good, but without her ability, there was no way Megan could take the same risks. The other firefighters and EMTs thought she was the bravest person there. It was a complete lie. She wasn’t brave at all. And today was the day it all fell apart.
“You okay over there?” Buzz asked her while opening a drawer. He pulled out a legal pad and pen. For what, she didn’t know, but she would’ve bet her chances on becoming a vet that whatever was coming was not good.
CHAPTER39
Troy folded the last pair of pants and zipped up his duffle. The only things left that identified he had ever occupied the room were the clothes laid out for tomorrow morning and his toiletries. Everything else, he had already staged by the door.
Today he had spent most of the day cooking. Troy made everything his dad had loved while they had been together, including some new favorites he had snuck in on a whim and a hunch. Dad had always been a meat and potatoes guy, so of course there was pot roast, meatloaf, and beef stew. Troy had also made a lasagna, chicken Alfredo, and two pans of baked spaghetti. What surprised him was that his dad had enjoyed chicken tagine. The flavors were an exploration, along with pork carnitas, Caribbean jerk chicken, and jambalaya.
Troy had gone to the store and fixed pans of these meals, using every pan in the kitchen multiple times and wearing out the oven and crock pot. His mom had been a meal preparer too, and the proportioned container he held in his hand reminded him of her so much. Because work on the ranch had busy times, she made sure to plan ahead, always having something to pull out of the deep freezer so they could have a home-cooked meal on a short turnaround. Now he packed everything for two servings, taking care to label each one with the name and reheating instructions.
His dad didn’t say too much all day, preferring to sit in his chair and read the paper while Levi lay on the braided rug in front of him. The new wood stove crackled while the morning news changed to daytime TV, then the evening roundup of primetime shows.
From where he had stood in the kitchen, Troy could see the TV and the back of his dad’s chair, taking notice how he folded the newspaper when he did the crossword, spoke too loud on his cellphone when a friend called, and made a note in his date book on the end table when the doctor’s office called to confirm an upcoming appointment.
Troy tried to memorize every detail and movement, while anticipating what else he could do to make his departure easier. He had ordered a cord of wood and tipped the guy to stack it right next to the house, which allowed for easy access for his dad. That would be plenty to get through the cold snaps of spring and the rest of the summer through the beginning of fall when he hoped to return for a visit.
He had taken the truck for a tune-up, making sure to update all of the paperwork. And of course, he had cooked all day.
He knew his dad was looking forward to the last part the most because during a commercial break he had asked, “Are you fixing that Cajun dish?”
“Yeah, just put it in.”
“Good.”
The minimalistic praise brought a smile to Troy’s face even now as he thought about it. Home-cooked food had been one of the ways his mom had shown her love, and Troy was glad to be able to do something with his hands.
When he was finished, he cleaned the whole place top to bottom, finished laundry and bedding, and then called to make arrangements for someone to come and help deep clean the place on a regular basis. His dad had decided he liked his new house better now that he and Levi had settled in. There were fewer stairs and it was still home, with fewer memories in his face, and less change than what was happening at the ranch house. In his dad’s words, “I don’t need all that fancy new stuff going in.”
Troy hadn’t argued. It wasn’t a surprise his dad didn’t want to rush back to the place filled with so many memories. In a way, it was a new chapter for them both. His dad had leaned into that idea.
He also was incredibly practical too. There were two steps going up to the small, covered porch. This walk-in shower was much newer and had a little more space in the bathroom. The bedrooms were smaller, but the walls were tighter and it was easier to heat. The biggest thing he hadn’t mentioned was the one story.
They had never spoken of the fact that he had to be carried downstairs in his own home, but Troy had known his father long enough to know that was a painful thing for the old cowboy, and pride wouldn’t let him go back again. Of course, Troy knew there had been a lot of smoke and his dad was weakened in the moment, and this had little to do with his actual ability.
Of course all this meant the ranch house would sit empty until his return. Troy had balked when his ever-practical dad had suggested renting out the house to “a nice, young ranching family.”
He didn’t like the idea one bit, so his dad had dropped it. Still, they both knew the money from the insurance had run out. Taxes didn’t pay for themselves, and even though Troy planned to send money back to help for the horses, more income would be a necessity. With him not here to manage the place, the B&B plan was as good as asking Uncle Sam to accept an IOU.
All of this wasn’t even to mention his dad’s medical bills, which had started to roll in. He was on Medicare, but not having a supplement was a real headache. Troy had learned far more about insurance than he ever wanted to in his life and had been on hold enough to be able to sing along to the bad hold music.
The reality was, in his time here, Troy had done everything he could, and despite it all, he still felt like shit.
Troy had paused to go out and visit with the horses, finding a now familiar peace in the smell of the hay bedding and dusty warmth of the barn. Seeing Braxton again made him want to stay, but what he wanted didn’t matter. All he could do was his best with the time he had. At least he could take comfort in that.
It helped him as much as the new therapist had. He knew there was no way he could get trauma treatment without a rapport, history, and relationship, but in the absence of his treatment, all of the old habits had started to get the better of him, so he had made an appointment to at least go talk with someone.
The licensed counselor’s office was downtown, and while he had only gone three times during his time here, she had helped reframe the short-term incidents he was having and a few of his feelings of inadequacy and fears about relationships. Of course, he had tried to steer them away from that. He didn’t have enough time to unpack all of that shit here and now. While they both knew it wasn’t a long-term thing, it felt good knowing he had support whenever he came to visit his dad.
Now, the truck was ready to go, and Dad was settled in. That was that. Troy had even reluctantly checked his email to find hundreds he had to sift through. In what seemed like a matter of minutes,Wheelwas over and his dad kicked down the new La-Z-Boy’s footrest.
“Big day tomorrow. Got to get some sleep.”
“See you in the morning, Dad.”
That was all that was said, and as Troy looked at the duffle in front of him, he recognized how shameful it was that there was so much left unsaid between the two of them. With his imminent departure, the distance had started to creep in again just like it had before. Work, time, and differences in day to day life crept in, pushing the gap wider, straining any conversation until they became two strangers who wanted to connect but couldn’t speak the same language.
He couldn’t let it happen again. He would call. Check in. Be the person Megan had inspired him to be.
